


Boxed Gift

by cycnus39



Series: Dodge City [3]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: 2K Round-up Challenge, Explicit Language, Gen, Old West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cycnus39/pseuds/cycnus39
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buck thinks he's found a suitable alternative to putting Chris in jail; Chris disagrees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boxed Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DichotomyStudios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DichotomyStudios/gifts).



> This story is set in Dodge City about two years post-Ella when Buck is an Assistant Marshal and Chris is trouble.

His head hurt and his knees hurt and his back-- He couldn’t move. It was pitch dark and-- He was in a trunk. He was in a fucking trunk!

“Buck!” he bellowed despite his pounding head, tried to kick out, lash out despite the pain of being wedged so tightly in the trunk he could barely breathe. “I’m going to kill you! Let me out right now or I swear I’m going to fucking-- What?” he yelled as he thought he heard a muffled response.

“I said,” Buck shouted from above, and he realised Buck was sitting on the trunk to stop him breaking the locks or hinges, “I’m doing you a favour, so settle down.”

“Favour?” he snarled back. “Let me out and I’ll show you a fucking favour!”

“Chris, if I hadn’t dragged you up here, you’d be in jail again and you know Bill said he’d hold you for trial if your sorry ass ended up behind bars more than twice in one week.”

Anger snapping, he punched and kicked out again, but couldn’t get enough weight behind his strikes to do any damage to himself never mind the trunk, ended up bellowing, “Fuck Bill and fuck you and fuck this fucking trunk!”

“Hey, hey, I’ll let you out as soon as you promise not to go after the McLean brothers again.”

“Those fucking-- I ain’t promising that!”

“Then I ain’t letting you out.”

Snarling, he wriggled around, managed to inch up enough and bend his head down far enough to get his shoulders against the curved lid of the trunk and push up with all his strength.

“Hey!” Buck yelped as the trunk’s lid gave a half-inch and the hinges squealed. “Quit that. You break Miss Angel’s trunk and you can pay for it.”

“I’ll be paying for you to be buried in it if you don’t let me out right this fucking second!” he bellowed back, pushing up with everything he had.

“I said, quit that!” Buck yelled, and the lid hit back, thumped him right on the back of the head where Earp had buffaloed him earlier.

He didn’t remember crying out but he was still seeing Fourth of July fireworks when Buck opened the trunk and the lamplight of Buck’s room hit him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, more at the light hurting his eyes and the unexpected pain in his shoulders as he freed his arms than the feel of Buck’s fingers stroking the pulpy bruise on his scalp.

“Naw, it ain’t no worse.” Buck petted then kissed the top of his head. “I swear your head’s harder than granite in wintertime.”

Ignoring Buck trying to sweeten him up, he tried to lever himself up out of the trunk and failed, growled at his aching back and legs, had to let Buck pull him to his feet then help him step out onto the floor. 

“There,” Buck said, steadying him by the trunk, “now that wasn’t so--”

Buck never saw the punch coming.

 

 

End


End file.
